


So no sorrow, no (I cannot wait to see you)

by PersonyPepper



Series: Witcher Make-up Au [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Feel-good, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Light Angst, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Roach is So Done (The Witcher), Roach is the Best (The Witcher), Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), and he loves it, because jaskier be like that, geralt wears makeup, jaskier takes care of his wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: The bard unclasps the pouch, a vial of moisturizer (scented far too strongly, he doesn’t use it around Geralt anymore), two brushes, a small jar of rouge, and another of kan-mai glint in the sun and oh Melitele, Jaskier feels like a very, very naughty boy as he opens the jar of rouge.Geralt doesn’t fucking twitch as Jaskier drags the the brush over his slightly chapped lips, his strokes fluid motions as he paints his witcher’s lips red. He’s careful to not miss a spot and not to make a mess of it, either as he goes over parted (slightly slobbery) lips. He dabs the rouge onto Geralt’s cheekbones, just a hint of a shy blush before he sits back on his knees, entirely satisfied.Fuckhim, Geralt looks petty.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Make-up Au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844020
Comments: 10
Kudos: 119
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	So no sorrow, no (I cannot wait to see you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vladisyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vladisyl/gifts).



> fyi kan-mai is eyeliner in tamil

Jaskier wakes at dawn, the barest rays of sunlight peeking through the treetops of their camp, the sky slowly lightening as he blinks open tired eyes. Geralt snores beside him, lips parted, drool dripping out from the corners of his mouth, still very much knocked-out by his hangover; white gull does things to the witcher that even the strongest human-made alcohol couldn’t.

Jaskier grins, remembering his lover’s slurred words and off-rhythm drumming on the wooden log he’d found, insistent on giving Jaskier’s lute a solid beat. Ridiculous, ridiculous man, it’s too easy to love him, playful on the best of days, but downright chaotic when he was drunk.

The bard checks over Geralt’s hands, wary about splinters and eternally happy as he finds none. He packs their bags, waits. 

It’s near mid-morning when Jaskier finally loses his patience, poking Geralt square in the cheek.

Nothing.

He’d think the man was  _ dead _ if not for the deafening snores. The bard considers shaking, but really, if a poke won’t wake a witcher, a shake probably wouldn’t either.

He considers Roach.

Roach considers him. Tilts her head and lets out a brief snort. A warning or a confirmation, Jaskier doesn’t know.

What he  _ does _ know is that he’s bored.

He quietly pulls out the pouch from his pack; not that it matters, Jaskier doesn’t think a hundred simultaneous roars could wake his witcher now; and tip toes back to his friend, mischief shining in his eyes. The bard unclasps the pouch, a vial of moisturizer (scented far too strongly, he doesn’t use it around Geralt anymore), two brushes, a small jar of rouge, and another of kan-mai glint in the sun and oh  _ Melitele _ , Jaskier feels like a very, very naughty boy as he opens the jar of rouge. 

Geralt doesn’t fucking  _ twitch _ as Jaskier drags the the brush over his slightly chapped lips, his strokes fluid motions as he paints his witcher’s lips red. He’s careful to not miss a spot and not to make a mess of it, either as he goes over parted (slightly slobbery) lips. He dabs the rouge onto Geralt’s cheekbones, just a hint of a shy blush before he sits back on his knees, entirely satisfied.

Fuck him, Geralt looks  _ petty _ . Not that that’s unexpected, his witcher’s a very pretty man, eyes amber, dimples shining when he cares to smile but the make-up— Jaskier finds himself swooning, aching to kiss the man’s red lips.

Alas, he has a job to do.

He runs the thinner brush through the mai before carefully drawing a thin line over his lover’s eyelid, on his lash-line, drawing it out before curving it down to meet his lower lid, stopping just before he reaches the corner of his witcher’s eye.

The bard carefully replicates his design on the other eye, wary of how irritatingly asymmetrical it could turn out. His near shaking by the time he sits back, his body tense from leaning over his friend without falling on him, but ultimately, Geralt doesn’t look much like a clown.

Oh on, in fact, he looks  _ gorgeous _ , and Jaskier can’t help but stare at his lover, skin so beautifully shimmering. He looks so fucking  _ good _ , a gentle whimper escaping Jaskier’s throat as he imagines the rouge smearing in a desperate kiss, Geralt fucking into him, avid golden eyes lined with makeup so dark and inense that they  _ glow  _ as he stares into his own.

Roach raises her head up at him in judgement as he tries to will his cock to calm the fuck down, huffing as if to make a jab at him. 

_ “It’s not my fault he’s fucking hot, okay?” _ She turns away from him, done with his shit. The bard huffs, cleaning the brushes as best he can before tucking them back into the pouch along with the rest of his makeup before shoving it all into his satchel.

Geralt is awake when Jaskier turns, sleep-softened eyes staring at him blearily. “What time is it?” He asks, a rumble of words as his love rises to his feet. And if Jaskier had thought him beautiful before… Jaskier stares at him, utterly fucking mesmerized. The ways Geralt’s lips move, accentuated by the red is  _ hypnotizing _ , the way his eyes are lined make his gaze all the more intense and fuck, Jaskier wants to do nothing more than drop to his knees and suck him off, wants to watch those reds be bit at by Geralt’s fangs, turn into an  _ oh _ as he spills down Jaskier’s throat, oh does the bard want it. He can feel his legs on the brink of giving as Geralt tucks their rolled bedrolls under his arm and approaches him. 

Berry-red lips turn into a frown, so similar to a pout that Jaskier has to smother a squeal in his throat at how impossibly cute his lover looks. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Jaskier sobers nearly instantaneously. “Of course not, dear witcher, we should really get on the road, half a day gone already, and the next town is two, no, was it three? It was three days away— come now, Geralt, I’ve got everything packed while you slept on your lazy arse—” Geralt’s glare steal his breath away, heart stuttering in his chest, “don’t give me that look, it’s good to be lazy sometimes.” He chatters on, Geralt relaxing eventually as he walks beside him, occasionally chuckling, red lips pulling in a sly grin as he adds his own jokes

Roach butts Jaskier’s shoulder when she sees Geralt, a definite approval as they make their way down the path.

~~

The sun bores down on them, Jaskier’s chemise soaked through. He strips off his breeches and stuffs them into a saddlebag, his smalls still too much against his skin. Geralt looks on in amusement, not a single bit of sweat beading on his skins because fuck  _ witchers _ , he guesses. His love’s make-up is unsmudged, and as Geralt grins at him, mockingly turning his head to the sun as if to relish in her rays, Jasksier sees long lashes against the skin under the man’s sky, face so entirely content and blissful and fucking pretty that he tells Roach to stop and pulls him down by his tunic collar, pressing his lips to Geralt’s. 

_ Sweet Melitele, _ he’s in heaven, a shudder running through him as Geralt hums into their kiss. The rouge is fucking resiliant if anything, stubbornly refusing to leave traces on Jaskier’s lips, which the bard is eternally grateful for. As soon as his lover realizes that he’s been painted— he really doesn’t want to think about how mad Geralt’s going to be.

“Uncalled for,” his witcher grumbles as they finally pull away, Jaskier’s insatiability tempered for the time being. The bard only rolls his eyes.

“You’re really complaining, are you?” He counts it as a win when Geralt only hums and veers off the trail.

“Stream nearby,” Geralt mumbles before Jaskier can ask. And this is it. His witcher’ll surely see his reflection and rage at him before washing it off.

“Geralt, wait!” The witcher pauses, a question in his expression and fuck if it doesn’t take Jaskier’s breath away all over again. “Fuck me?”

His breath hitches as Geralt’s face crumples. 

“Is something wrong? You don’t actually want me to fuck you, I can smell when you’re willing—” _ Gods _ , he wants to say,  _ you look beautiful and I want so much, though I know you’ll hate it. _ “Do you not… is there something wrong with me?”

Oh. Oh  _ fuck. _ He can’t help but tackle Geralt in a hug, hiding his head in the man’s neck. “No! Melitele no, you’re  _ perfect _ , I just— you look good and, here,” he walks him over to the river, heart in his throat as he guides his lover over to the water.

He’s met with shocked silence as Geralt stares at his reflection, and Jaskier gives the man a small smile. “I’m sorry, that I did without your permission, I was bored and then you looked so good—” He’s cut off with a hungry kiss, pushed against one of trees lining the bank.

“It’s good, like it,” and Jaskier melts into the embrace, a bright grin on his face.

“You look so pretty, Geralt,” he mumbles, his lover humming into the kiss.

They pull back, breathless.

“So, I take that you’ll want to be doing this again?” 

Geralt only tackles him into another kiss in reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Title from "So It Goes" by Robert Hallow and The Holy Men! Also, apologies if it sucked, my inspiration fucked off somewhere leaving me with Pure Determination to finish this 😂😂 
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr (@persony-pepper)!](https://persony-pepper.tumblr.com)


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